


Buttercream Frosting

by soulless_and_on_fire



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Family, Fluff, Gen, Headcanon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-12-06 15:32:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/737280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulless_and_on_fire/pseuds/soulless_and_on_fire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam have a day off, and a home, and a kitchen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Buttercream Frosting

Dean hasn’t been happy in years. But now he kind of is, regardless of all that is still going on. He has a room of his own, the first since the fire, and more than that, he and Sam have somewhere to come back to. They have a home.  
  
It’s a Monday afternoon, and Dean realizes all of that. And then he decides to celebrate.  
  
So while Sam is busy rooting around in the archives, Dean digs a little tin box out of his trunk, tarnished and singed from the fire and rusted over time, and sneaks with it into the kitchen. Dean wandered around the wreckage of their kitchen all those years ago and found it behind the burned out stove. Staining his fingers red, he pries it open to reveal a stash of yellowed notecards overflowing with his mom’s flowery handwriting: her recipes. If he closes his eyes, he can almost see her hunched over the kitchen table writing feverishly after a successful dish.  
  
Dean is a great cook, skills honed through years of practice, back when he and Sam were dragged along on John’s hunts and they could cough up the dough for a motel room with a decent kitchen. He stole food when John wasn’t sober enough to put food in the pantry, but he always made something for Sammy when he could.  
  
He smiles as he flips through the cards, remembering each disastrous attempt and delicious success. He plucks out the one he is looking for with a triumphant grin. Then he gets cooking.  
  
Dean’s plan almost goes straight to hell when Sam tries to come into the kitchen for lunch, but he manages to convince him to go out and get lunch and “bring back some pie, dammit!”  
  
About an hour later, Sam returns with Dean’s pie. The pie in question is from a gas station, so it doesn’t look all that appetizing. Luckily, Dean has a ready alternative.  
  
Sitting on the table when Sam walks in is a rather delicious looking cake.  
  
“Dean?” asked Sam suspiciously, “What is this?”  
  
“It’s a cake, Sammy. Shouldn’t a college graduate like you—”  
  
“I know it’s a cake, Dean, but where did it come from?”  
  
“I made it.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Do I need to spell it out for you?”  
  
“Yes. No. I mean, why? You don’t even like cake.”  
  
“I like this cake.” Dean also knows Sam prefers cake over pie, but he isn’t going to admit that is why he made it. His life isn’t a goddamn chick flick, for crying out loud.  
  
“I like cake. Did you—”  
  
Sam’s question is cut off with a glare from Dean.  
  
“Do you want a piece or not? Because I will eat this entire thing by myself. And it’ll be damn good, too.”  
  
“Where did you get the recipe?”  
  
“It was Mom’s. She used to make it all the time.”  
  
“Is the frosting buttercream?” Sam hates buttercream. For all of the time they spend together and as close as they are, they don’t really know the little things about each other, the things that aren’t important in their line of work. He doesn’t know if Dean knows that he doesn’t like buttercream frosting.  
  
Dean knows.  
  
“No. That shit is nasty.”  
  
Sam smiles and puts the pie on the counter. “Then yeah, I’ll have a piece.”  
  
Dean cuts two pieces and puts them on a plate. He sits down at the table with his and slides one across the table. Sam sits across from him.  
  
They eat in silence for a little bit. Sam finishes his first.  
  
“That was really good.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
A few more moments of comfortable silence.  
  
“Why did you make it?”  
  
“Why not?” is all Dean says, but Sam can hear what isn’t said. We’re alive. We’re together. We’re okay.  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Dean finishes his cake.  
  
“Bitch.”  
  
“Jerk.”

**Author's Note:**

> Just a small fic I wrote for my lovely friend's 1k follower milestone. It's a spawn of my headcanon that dean is a stellar cook.


End file.
